


Been Here All Along

by versaillesatnight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Omega, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Knotting, M/M, Mates, Omega Sam, Pining Dean, Sibling Incest, also ruby is not having it, courting but not by dean, like...gratuitous fluff, this is disgusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versaillesatnight/pseuds/versaillesatnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a late bloomer. Traditionally, omegas found their partner and went through their first heat by sixteen. Sam is about to turn eighteen, and he hasn’t even let out a whiff of heat. He’s never been interested in any of his suitors, either. And Sam has had plenty. Dean can’t help but be pleased as punch about the whole situation.</p>
<p>Or Dean pines cluelessly and Sam waits patiently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Been Here All Along

**Author's Note:**

> Haha so I haven't written in like 2 years but it's a loving time of the year and all I really want in this world is for Sam and Dean to be happy together so. Here it is. I'm a little unsure how knotting works but I was into it lmao so I hope that the sex scene works for everybody. Idk!!! I feel like this is kind of a mess but w/e w/e I'm just happy to be doing the Lord's work and writing more omega!sam fic. This is probably rough, I've just looked over it once myself but i hope it's still enjoyable!

Sam is a late bloomer. Traditionally, omegas found their partner and went through their first heat by sixteen. Sam is about to turn eighteen, and he hasn’t even let out a whiff of heat. He’s never been interested in any of his suitors, either. And Sam has had plenty. “It’s just going to take a special alpha to pique Sam’s interest,” Mary says. Dean can’t help but be pleased as punch about the whole situation. Every alpha from their town has tried to court Sam. It started with everyone in his high school. Ruby, the pretty, smart, incredibly prickly alpha gave Sam a bouquet of flowers and a nice bottle of wine before school. Sam was too young to drink, but that was kind of the point. Ruby could show Sam a good time. She was strong and tough and most people were a little scared of her. She was fucking hot, to boot, and Sam had always loved making fun of people in gym with her.

Sam smiled shyly when she proposed to him, tucked his long, curling locks behind his ears and asked her if they could be friends instead.

The shocking thing wasn’t that Sam said no, the shocking thing was that Ruby actually agreed.

Then there came Gabriel, who gave Sam teddy bears and fucking dildos and conversation hearts, in an indiscernible pattern, every day for three months.

Sam had never liked Gabriel. Gabriel would show up at the diner Dean worked at and try to pick fights.

Like this one time, he ordered a burger medium rare and when it came out of the kitchen burnt to a cinder, he actually asked Dean to have the kitchen remake it. With kind of an attitude if Dean’s being honest. But that was going to be coming out of Dean’s paycheck and if Gabriel actually believed for one second that was happening, he had another thing coming.

Okay, maybe Dean just hates Gabriel. And maybe Sam doesn’t hate Gabriel so much as he picked up on Dean hating Gabriel.

It doesn’t matter. Either way, when Gabriel proposed to Sam after two long months of courting, right in the Winchester’s living room, might Dean add, Dean can’t help the triumphant cackle that bursts out of him when Sam says no. Doesn’t even ask if Gabriel wants to be friends.

When Gabriel looks hurt, Dean only feels a little bit mean. Gabriel gave Sam _dildos_ that presumptuous little shit, what did he think was going to come of it?

The entire alpha half of the football team tried in the weeks following that. Day after day, each one brought cookies their mom obviously made, or some shitty card, or a couple notable occasions, nothing at all.

Courting is the proper way to do it. Tokens of the life you can offer an omega. Representations of how you thought about them and carefully selected what you knew would impress them.

As far as Dean can tell, it’s pretty goddamn stupid. Sam isn’t going to go from complete disinterest to spreading his legs because of a box of chocolates. Not that he thinks of Sam spreading his long, coltish legs, like, constantly.

Dean thinks the tokens are stupid. But he doesn’t think they’re nearly as stupid as the couple of alphas off the football team who showed up empty handed. Sammy deserves effort. But that’s how much confidence being ranked second in a third division school gives some guys.  

Sam apparently wasn’t impressed either because he said no before they could even fully kneel.

When Sam turned seventeen, more elaborate gifts and invitations started up. College students would return home and ask Sam to fancy dinners. Rich, widowed alphas would offer him vacations or cars. One alpha, Lucifer, offered Sam both. That was the first time Dean saw Sam look a little flustered. He shook his head violently when the alpha got on one knee.

“No! No, no thank you. No.” He said. Dean was kind of disappointed Sam wasn’t the type of guy to accept expensive gifts with absolutely no intention of partnering with someone.

Alpha by alpha, rejection by rejection, Sam worked his way through the entire town population of Alphas.

Dean was downright giddy the night John came home, slammed his way up the stairs to Dean and Sam’s room, and yelled “What’s wrong with Jim?!”

Jim was the second-to-last one. One of the very last alphas to cross of the chart Dean had going of every eligible alpha in town.

The fact that Dean had a chart is not embarrassing because it was a chart he kept in his head and not even Sam knew about it, so Dean only felt complete satisfaction drawing a big, red line through Jim’s name.

Dean’s maybe a little too invested in Sam’s love life. He knows, okay? It’s weird and icky and he’s gotten relatively good at hiding it.

Except, not really, because when Madison, the final alpha, proposes to Sam in Dean’s diner, Cassie picks up on Dean’s annoyance pretty easily.

“How’d you know?” Dean agonizes as they close that evening.

“Dean, as soon as she asked Sam, you threw a plate.”

“It slipped!” Dean protests.

Cassie sighs, “When he turned Brady down, you gloated for a month.”

“Brady’s a fucking dickbag! He should’ve known Sam was allergic to that perfume!”

Cassie turns over the last chair with a flourish, “I’m not judging you for having the hots for Sam,” she says, “I’m judging you for being you.”

“Whatever the fuck that means!” Dean says but Cassie is waving as she walks out the door, “Don’t forget to lock up this time!” She says, and Dean just then realizes that he didn’t exactly deny anything.

The thing is, Dean has kind of had a thing for Sam since forever. Not in a weird way. When he was young it was totally just alpha-big-brother watching out for omega-little-brother and it was cute and everyone was totally onboard the “Dean craving Sam’s attention, going with him on play dates, and holding his hand everywhere” train. Then Dean got a little older, and people were suddenly exiting en masse.

His mom had a sit down with him and told him that he was growing up and Sam was growing up and basically Dean needed to stop being so fucking weird about his little brother.

What she really said was “Sam’s going to start an exciting adventure soon, and you need to understand that while you’ll always be Dean’s favorite friend, he’s going to be looking for something more than that in the next couple years.”

“More than me?” Dean had said. He was thirteen at the time and thirteen-year-olds sometimes have voices that sound tremble-y because of puberty, not because they’re going to cry.

“Sam is looking for his partner,” Mary said, “Like me and dad.”

Dean knew that. Of course he knew that. He knew what partners were. He wasn’t a fucking child. But he gave Sam everything a partner was going to give him anyway. He _got_ Sam.

Sam was hilarious in a way a lot of people would never understand. He was a goddamn genius, too, and a lot of alphas were against omegas going to college. And he smelled so fucking good.

Okay, so, he doesn’t tell him mom any of that. Because it’s weird. Everyone knows you don’t partner with your brother. Sure, Dean is 100% down for it, yes, he’s never kissed anyone because he pines over dorky Sam Winchester every second of every day, but it just isn’t _done_ and, anyway, Sam is definitely 100% _not_ down for it. Dean would know. He knows everything about Sam. Every tell, every little quirk, Dean’s got it down. So he would know if Sam was into him—the fact of the matter is, Sam doesn’t seem to be into anyone. But Jesus, does Dean want him to be.

He thought he was pretty slick about it, after that. Keeping it under wraps, longing from the shadows, content to live the rest of his days two feet from where he really wanted to be.

Cassie saw right through him, though. Dean figures she’s just really perceptive. He’s sure it’s not a big deal, if he doesn’t talk about it; it’ll just blow over.

Dean gets home around eleven, tries to be quiet as he washes up for bed, and heads into his shared room with Sam.

“Mom and dad aren’t home you know,” Sam says as soon as Dean walks in the room.

“So you just let me creep around like a fucking idiot?” Dean says.

“That I did,” Sam says, flicking the bedside lamp on. He’s sprawled out on his bed, grinning.

“You’re so sick. Just sitting in here, in the dark, listening to something that didn’t actually inconvenience me all that much.”

Sam shrugs like he agrees, “How was work?”

“Ugh,” Dean says as he plops down on his bed, “No thank you.”

Sam laughs, “That bad, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean says, “Let’s talk about Maaaadison,” he says, drawing it out like he isn’t creepily invested in this conversation.

“Madison’s nice,” Sam says.

“Don’t play good-guy around me, Sammy,” Dean says, “Give me the dirty details. Voice too high? Not the brightest bulb? Kind of a weird laugh? I don’t blame you, I totally agree.”

Sam sighs, “No, Dean. Madison really is nice. She’s just—she’s not what I want.”

_What do you want, Sammy?_ Dean thinks but what he says is, “Yeah, she’s probably a lousy lay.”

 “Jesus _Christ_ Dean! There is something wrong with you,” Sam says, but when he turns to meet Dean’s eyes he’s grinning.

When they drift off to sleep that night, Dean sleeps better than he has in years, finally crossing the last alpha off his chart.

Three days after that, Sam’s in the diner with Ruby. Dean hates when Ruby comes to the diner.

“She sent back the french-fries. Again,” Dean hisses to Cassie behind the counter, “Like, we bathed them in salt. There’s salt on the fucking table. She’s doing this to mess with me.”

“You know, at first I thought you were paranoid, but I’m kind of starting to see it now,” Cassie admits and Dean gestures towards Ruby wildly, which, roughly translated, equates to “I told you so.”

“I’ll bring her the next batch,” Cassie says. Dean shakes his head, “No, don’t. She’ll think I’m a coward or something.”

Cassie rolls her eyes, “Alphas.”

The chef slides down the next set of fries and glares at Dean, “I’m not doing it again,” He says and Dean nods in understanding.

He dumps almost half a salt shaker on the fries, and then he heads out.

Ruby is sitting across the booth from Sam, but they’re leaning so close across the table that their heads are almost touching. Dean tries to be cool about it. “Fries.” He says as he slams the plate down loud enough to startle Ruby backwards.

She glares up at him.

“Tell me, Dean, what’s it like having to serve other alphas for minimum wage?”

Dean sneers, “Funny, I didn’t realize I’d served another alpha all day.”

“Dickholesayswhat?” Ruby says in a rush.

“What?” Dean snaps and then he gets it, “You aren’t fucking funny you—“

“Stop,” Sam cuts in with a sigh, “You have equally gigantic knots.”

Dean chokes and splutters out, “This isn’t about that, Sam! Your friend is a total fucko!” 

Ruby tsks, “I’m feeling attacked on that one, Dean, could I speak to your manager?”

“ _Sam,”_ Dean whines, but Sam’s _laughing._

“Sorry,” He says, when he finally manages to stop.

“Whatever,” Dean says as he turns huffily to go back to the kitchen.

“Dean!” Ruby trills out when Dean takes all of three steps.

“What?” Dean snaps.

“The fries are too salty.”

Dean growls, turns to grab the plate, and dumps the fries in the trash on the way back to the kitchen.

“We’re out of fries,” He shouts.

“Then I’ll just have some mozzarella sticks,” Ruby yells back.

“No!” Dean says as he slams the door the door to the kitchen open

The kitchen door is just about to close when Dean hears Ruby say to Sam, “Honestly, I don’t know how you’re gonna put up with it.”

“I hate her,” He says as he reenters the kitchen, kicking the trash can next to the door and tossing the empty french-fry plate into the sink with a clatter.

Cassie clears her throat delicately, “Dean, this is Castiel.”

Dean looks up. Next to Cassie is a skinny, dark haired boy. He waves to Dean a little hesitantly.

“Castiel is new to town. He wants to know if we’re hiring,” Cassie says.

“How am I supposed to know if we’re hiring?” Dean says.

“You’re assistant manager, asshole,” Cassie says.

“Oh,” Dean says, remembering the conversation he had had with Bobby about some new responsibility doing him good, “Right.”

“I should’ve been assistant manager,” Cassie says to Castiel in a voice not even close to a whisper, “But Dean’s a big fan of nepotism.”

“I’ll talk to Bobby,” Dean says, eyeballing Cassie as he holds his hand out to Castiel.

“Nice to meet you, Castiel,” He says, trying to undo some of the damage he and Cassie have probably done—but then, Dean catches a whiff of Castiel’s scent and he stiffens.

Cas is an alpha. Shit.

The thing is, alphas kind of have a thing about omegas. Even if they aren’t particularly attracted to them, even if they don’t find them interesting, or funny, or really anything, they have to at least _try_ to court them. It’s biology.

Or at least, that’s what Dean hears. Lisa, the towns only other available omega, before she partnered with Gadreel, was one of his best friends in school, and he’d never felt the urge to drop to his knees and ask for her hand.

So Dean knows it’s only a matter of time.

He likes Cas, he really does. He fits in well with him and Cassie. Dean got the job for him. The kid was nice, and had great recommendations, and they needed a little extra help.

He likes him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t eager for Castiel to be turned down.

Castiel sure is taking his sweet damn time, though. It’s been weeks and Dean hasn’t seen so much as a hint towards the hint of a proposal.

When Sam comes into the diner, which is about five times a week, Cas is friendly. Dean always takes Sam’s order and brings him his food, but Dean’ll watch Cas stop by the table and refill Sam’s glass of water and make small talk.

The worst part is, Sam clearly doesn’t mind it. He’s friendly back; he nods enthusiastically when Cas talks.

Dean just wants the entire process to end—for Cas to propose, and for Sam to turn him down, and for the little _I’m a decent alpha who genuinely wants to get to know you_ shtick to end.

It’s annoying.

Dean tries to subtly bring it up one day while they’re working the breakfast shift. “So, you seem to get along with my brother,” he says.

“Yes, Sam and I have many similar interests,” Cas says with a shrug.

Dean smiles and nods as he fills soda cups.

“What similar interests?” He says, peppy as can be.

“Many,” Cas replies, and he heads out with a stack of pancakes.

Dean is waiting for him when he gets back.

“Table 4 has their food and not their drink order,” Cas says.

“Where do you see these interests ending?” Dean says.

Cas looks confused, “I don’t know what you’re asking me, Dean,” He says. “Would you like me to deliver the drinks?”

“I can deliver drinks!” Dean snaps, groping blindly back on the counter to grab the drinks without breaking eye contact with Cas, and promptly knocking over a coke.

“I’ll refill that for you, Dean, just grab a towel,” Cas says and immediately does just that.

Cas is so fucking _nice._ He’s nice to Dean, he’s nice to Cassie, he’s nice to Ruby, and he’s nice to fucking Sam and it’s got Dean in a sort of uncomfortable place.

Because, well, he knew that this was going to happen eventually. There was going to be someone who put in the hours. Someone Dean couldn’t even honestly say he completely hates.

What he really hates, he thinks as he watches Cas deliver the drinks to the table, is himself—for thinking that he still had time, for thinking he had a chance, for thinking someone like Sam was going to be un-partnered and happy to hang out with Dean and watch shitty movies and laugh at Dean’s stupid jokes for the rest of his life.

Dean knows it’s coming. He’s known it’s coming for most of his adult life. He’s just been very adept at denial. There’s a small possibility that Sam won’t say yes to Cas, but he’ll say yes to someone, eventually. Soon, too. An un-partnered omega after twenty is unheard of. Someone like Sam not being partnered is completely impossible.

Dean doesn’t know how he’s going to survive it, but he figures it’s always better to go into things prepared.

He starts by asking Cas to get Sam’s food order, when his little brother comes in that afternoon. He tries to eavesdrop from the kitchen so it’s his own fault that he’s a little bit hurt when Sam doesn’t ask where he is. Instead, he and Cas chat about a book Dean had started a month ago because Sam had liked it so much.

Dean’s about halfway through it. He was busy and the book was a little dry, but for some reason, Dean feels a sharp pang when he hears Cas reveal the death of Lettie. He almost feels like fucking crying.

That night, he offers to close up on his own and Cassie pounces on the opportunity while Castiel quietly _hmms_ and then says, “I wouldn’t feel right, Dean,” and stays with him while Dean mopes through wiping down the counters.

Dean would probably like Cas as a brother-in-law. What a depressing fucking thought.

He gets home a little later than he’d planned to, but all the lights are still on. He really doesn’t want to see Sam right now, under the weight of his new revelation. He doesn’t want to smell him and think about how he’s going to be marked up with some other alpha’s scent, doesn’t want to see Sam’s face light up when he makes Dean laugh, knowing that someday he’s going to be entering their bedroom to silence and Sam’s aching absence.

It’s something he has tried not to think about for a long time, but now it’s pressing heavily on his mind, unshakeable.

He sits on the sofa instead of going upstairs, and puts some cooking competition on to try and distract himself.

He’s about halfway through the episode, tearing up when the girl who’d wanted to start her own vegan bakery gets eliminated, when he hears Sam padding down the stairs.

He has no other explanation for how he acts except blind, gripping panic. He flings himself across the sofa, squeezes his eyes shut, and pretends to be sleeping.

He can tell Sam’s in the room, but he doesn’t say anything. Just huffs out a breath, and the next thing he knows, Sam has draped a blanket over him.

_Jesus Christ,_ Dean thinks with a dull ache, _I cannot fucking do this._

He pretends to be asleep for the rest of the evening, agonizing over it. The next morning, as soon as the sun’s up, he’s sprinting up the stairs and into the shower in an attempt to get out of the house before Sam rouses.

Of course, as soon as he enters their bedroom, Sam says, “Hey,”

“Um,” Dean manages, as he pulls his clothes on, heart thumping wildly.

“You want to talk?” Sam asks him quietly, but Dean’s mostly dressed and he says, “Work,” before slamming out the door.

He’s got the diner completely open, coffee brewing, tables set up, before Cassie walks in the door.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asks immediately.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Dean says back, monotone. Cassie raises her perfectly manicured eyebrows, but her face speaks more of pity than annoyance. Dean _hates_ it.

“Good comeback, Winchester,” she says, but she goes to fill her coffee thermos, and she brings a cup back to Dean. Yeah, that was definitely pity he saw.

“So, you’re a busy bee,” She says as she sips delicately, “You feeling motivated to make manager by the end of the month?”  

Dean grunts in response.

“Okaaay,” she says, and then she says, “By the way, Cas called in sick.”

Dean’s lips turn down a little at the name, but he nods, and tries to finish his coffee. It tastes particularly shitty that day.

It doesn’t really bother him until it gets to be three, the time Sam usually comes in, and there’s no sign of him.

The minutes tick away, and Dean’s going through everything that could be keeping him—serial killers, detention for proving the teacher wrong, buying Dean a surprise card that says he wants to take Dean’s knot—before it hits him.

Cas isn’t fucking sick. Cas is with Sam.

It’s so clear to him that he audibly groans. This is it. This is the rest of his life.

Sam’s going to keep being absent. He’s going to leave this pathetic gap in Dean’s life, where he used to count the hours to three, now Dean’s going to cringe at a fucking number on the clock.

Cassie tries to talk to him a few more times throughout the day, making fun of a beta couple who are feeding each other until Dean says, sounding about as sad as he feels, “At least they’re happy together.”

Then she must go from pity to full fledged concern, because she asks if Dean wants to hang out with her and her friends after work. Dean honestly wants to do nothing less. He likes Cassie. When they’re at work, they have a charming back-and-forth. Dean knows because Sam said it.

But all he really wants to do is go home and complain to Sam about the shitty fucking day he’s been having.

That’s the problem though, isn’t it?

“What’re you doing?” He asks.

“Just hanging out at Jessica’s house,” Cassie says, “It’s going to be a few people, very chill.”

“Sounds chill,” Dean replies in a monotone before he can stop himself.

“You’re going to be a great addition,” Cassie says, “I can tell.”

They lock up that night together, Dean still a little twitchy every time he hears footsteps passing outside. He just—he can’t believe Sam didn’t come in. He’d even checked his phone a few times throughout the day, trying to prove himself wrong, but nothing. Sam had just filled his time elsewhere. With someone else.

Cassie’s car is old, but clean and its heater starts up pretty quickly.

“So, Jess’s is a ways away,” She starts, “About twenty minutes,” Dean nods mutely.

“You want to pick the music?” She asks, and tosses him the CDs from the driver’s side.

Dean picks Taylor Swift, because, really, what else is there to do in a situation like this.

Cassie makes a sympathetic sound, “That bad, huh?”

Dean doesn’t respond and Cassie _hmms,_ “I think you want to talk about it,” she says, but Dean remains silent.

As soon as they enter the party, Dean can tell that this isn’t what he signed up for. There’s over fifty people packed into a relatively small home, and it already smells like vomit.  

“Sorry,” Cassie says as she pushes the door open, “I don’t know why I ever believe her,”

“Yeah, well, I’m down,” Dean says and Cassie snorts, “Sure you are, Dean.”

As soon as they’re in the door a pretty blond girl yells “Cassie!” and links her arm through Cassie’s, pulling her away from Dean.

Cassie catches his eyes as she’s pulled away, must see the panic, and mouths “Be right back.”

Dean groans and glances around the party. The only other person he knows is—shit. Ruby. Ruby is there. Ruby is staring at Dean, mouth pulled tight and judgmental, as she eyes him from near the stereo.

Why hadn’t Cassie _told_ him Ruby was going to be here?

He tries to be the adult about it, gives her a hesitant wave, and he can actually hear her scoff from the door. He resigns himself to a miserable evening.

He’s surprised, when a few beers and couple hours later, Ruby corners him as he’s taken to sitting on the couch, petting Jessica’s old dog.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks.

“Earning my wings,” Ruby says, breathes out a sigh.

“Your sad dog vibe is bringing this party down five notches,” she says as she eyes Dean critically.

“It is not,” Dean says, “To this dog, I am the party,”

Ruby sits on the couch next to Dean, and the dog hops off.

“That’s tragic,” Ruby says, “Like, the fact that I’m actually doing this tragic.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees.

“Look,” Ruby starts, “Does this whole,” she wiggles her fingers, “mood? Have something to do with Sam?”

Dean gives a tiny nod. If he’s being totally honest, he wants to talk about it. It’s a physical pain and it feels like if he doesn’t the pain’s going to expand and make something awful come out of him. He just doesn’t know how to talk about it. He’s just thought of it as this filthy secret for so long that even expressing it makes him feel a little sick.

Not that loving Sam makes him feel sick. It’s just—he’s built it up so much in his head, imagined his father’s horrified reaction, thought of Sam laughing in his face—that loving Sam can only be something good when he keeps it quiet.

But if he doesn’t say something he’s going to ruin whatever chance he has to be anywhere near Sam for the rest of his life. He’ll get bitter and silent anytime Sam’s with his partner. And it’ll be Sam’s partner, so of course they’re going to be together all the time. It’ll go from seeing Sam everyday and not being able to have him, to seeing Sam never, and not being able to have him, because he couldn’t keep his shitty feelings and jealousy in check.

Petting the old dog had gotten him thinking.

But still, it’s Ruby. He doesn’t exactly trust Ruby with anything to do with Sam. He doesn’t even trust her to not dine and dash.

“Look, Ruby, this isn’t any of your business.“ he says. Ruby’s eyes narrow and she says

“Sam asked me to talk to you, so I’m making it my business.”

Well. That’s something.

“So you and Sam and Sam and—“

“And Cas,” he says.

“You’re going to have to give me more than that,” Ruby says.

“I think Cas and Sam are going to partner,” Dean says.

“Oooh,” Ruby says, and then, to Dean’s horror, she chuckles.

“Dude, fuck you.” Dean says, stung and embarrassed, tries to stand up to get out of this conversation.

“No, you are not leaving,” she says, gripping his shirt with an immovable fist, “Jesus, I fucking hate this.”

“I hate you,” Dean mutters.

Ruby ignores him, “It’s just—you really think he has a thing for _Castiel_?

“I know he has a thing for Castiel,” Dean says.     

“They like all the same things. And Cas is actually getting to know him. And he made Sam laugh the other day, and Cas wasn’t _sick_ Ruby, he was with _Sam.”_

It feels good to say it out loud.

Ruby sighs heavily, “I don’t know half of what you’re talking about, but I’m going to end this fucking stupid game of telephone right now,”

“Why am I talking to you?” Dean mumbles, all the positive feelings from the confession evaporating.

“Because I’m not fucking stupid,” Ruby says, “And I’m telling you, Sam’s not into Cas.”

“Uh, yeah, he is. And even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter, because, because,”

“Because he’s not into you?” Ruby interjects, “Well, I’ve got fantastic news for you Dean, omegas don’t stay unpartnered because they haven’t found the right alpha.” Ruby kind of has a point. Partnering was, traditionally, more a union of need and companionship. No matter what the movies said about it, people rarely found their perfect alpha. Partnering was more about finding the best possible option to get omegas through their heats and continue to repopulate the species. It’s not particularly romantic, but it’s necessary.

Then again, Sam has never needed a heat satisfied. He’s never shown any interests in alphas at all.

“He’s not just some omega he’s—“

“He’s mated, you fucking dumbass. And he’s waiting for his alpha to catch on.”

Dean gapes. Being mated isn’t unheard of—it’s a one in a million thing, but that still doesn’t mean it’s incredibly rare. There are a couple thousand true, mated pairs out there. Mating surpasses everything. A mate is biology’s way of saying, “Look what I did. I made a perfect match.”

It makes a lot of sense. Statistically speaking, Sam was already a weirdo. Dean had never heard of an unpartnered omega after sixteen, and Sam was pushing eighteen. Sam was always special. Sam deserved someone who was fucking _made_ for him. It doesn’t make the pain of it any less, knowing Sam’s got a mate, but it’s a shallow comfort knowing that he really never had a chance.

“Who’s his alpha?” He whispers.

“You cannot be that fucking dumb,” Ruby says, “I can’t do this anymore.” She flips out her phone, shoots a text message off faster than Dean can really process it and snaps, “Talk to Sam,” turning to give him a scathing look, “This was awful, let’s never do this again.”

Then she’s gone.

Dean has another hour or so, till Cassie finds him again. She’s been taking care of drunken friends all night, sober as a saint. She apologizes to Dean profusely, offers to drive him home.

“I’m sorry, I know this probably didn’t help you feel better,” She says as they turn onto Dean’s street.

Dean doesn’t know exactly how he feels. He feels something bordering on hope, a lot of things bordering on terror, and has since Ruby and he had their little chat. He doesn’t want to nurture it, though, in case something goes horribly wrong.

He’s decidedly not getting excited, he only feels jumpy because of the cold, as Cassie unlocks the car door and says she’ll see him at work the next day.

When he makes his way to his and Sam’s room, he’s not surprised to find Sam up. Still, he keeps himself in check.

“Hey, Sammy,” he says as he enters. Sam is sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at Dean with an unreadable expression on his face.

“So two alphas and a beta walk into a party,” Dean says, and Sam’s lips quirk up, just a fraction.

“Fun night?” He says.

“I don’t know, Sammy. I kind of feel like I’m the punch line to the whole evening.”

Sam’s face stiffens.

“That came out wrong,” Dean says and scratches his cheek in a nervous gesture, “I feel like maybe everyone’s in on something I’m not,” he tries again.

“Well maybe everyone thought you were in on it and being purposefully obtuse,” Sam says slowly, measured.

“Oh, big word, Sam,” Dean says, instantly hates himself for saying it, and takes a breath, “Sorry. Wrong again. I’m a fucking idiot. Why would I be in on anything?”

Sam sighs, sounding frustrated and hurt. It makes Dean chest clench. “I just, Dean, the past couple days I thought you’d finally _got_ it. I thought you realized and you were trying to, like, figure it out. And Ruby tells me you’re at this party, and I’m so fucking desperate to figure out some kind of read on you, I act like a twelve year old and try to get my friend to talk to you. And I guess you still don’t have a fucking clue.”

Dean tries to process all that, “I have a clue,” he says.

Sam sits patiently. Dean wonders, briefly, how many years Sam has been sitting patiently.

“I just want you to know,” Dean says, “That just because I didn’t figure it out, it doesn’t mean I haven’t felt it for my entire life.”

Sam looks surprised. Dean can see the same hope that’s taken up root in him bloom across Sam’s features. Dean likes seeing that on Sam’s face, likes being the cause of it.  

“I had no idea,” Dean says, “But Sammy, you have to believe me, I wanted you every fucking day.”

“Every day, huh?” Sam asks, standing from his place on the bed and approaching Dean.

Sam smiles at him, fond and soft, and Dean feels like he’s in a stupid goddamn movie and he’s honestly kind of loving it.

“Uh huh,” Dean mumbles dumbly, Sam is so close to him now, warm and beautiful, he’s standing just close enough for Dean to touch, and Dean thinks he has permission now. The weight of it hasn’t really sunk in, but his hands are apparently all caught up, because he finds himself stroking Sam’s stupid-long hair behind his ear.

“So, mates, huh?” He asks, just to confirm, he just wants to make sure that he’s allowed to have this. He’s allowed to get used to this.

Sam’s smile is answer enough, but he nods and says, “Took you long enough.”

\---

The next morning finds Dean on cloud fucking nine. Sam is curled next to him, warm and sweet and the boy Dean has loved for his entire life. Dean didn’t know he could be this happy. It’s like something bright has cracked open inside him and flowers or some other sappy shit is growing there.  

How could he not have known? He should’ve known the first time he set eyes on Sam. He’s wasted so much time.

That doesn’t matter, though, he thinks.

Sammy turns over with a whimper; the slight shift giving Dean a strong whiff of his scent.

_Oh,_ he thinks, cock hardening up instantly.

“Dean,” Sam says, eyes fluttering open.

_Fuck,_ Dean thinks, cock twitching in his boxers.

“Sammy,” He breathes, and then Sam’s on him.

They’d kissed the night before—Dean’s first kisses, trembling and sweet and intoxicating. But this is nothing like that. Neither of them have the patience for skill, it’s sloppy and dirty and perfect. Sam tastes so _good._ Dean alternates between kisses and just stopping to breathe him in through shallow gasps.

Sam shudders when Dean accidentally bites his lip.

“Heat,” He says.

“I know,” Dean says, “I got you, Sammy.”

This, at least, is something his body and brain seem to have figured out.

Dean gropes Sam’s ass, pulling him toward his hip so Sammy has something to grind against. Give his omega some relief, take care of him.

He’s hot and hard against Dean, thrusting wildly. Dean trails his fingers down Sam’s chest, pinching his little pink nipples. Sam groans loudly. Dean feels his wet heat soak through his boxers.

“You came, Sammy?” He asks, sucking on his barred neck, Sam’s taste almost heady there.

“Not enough,” Sam says, not embarrassed at all. He lifts his hips a little, clambering to get his boxers off, but he’s having trouble.

“Yeah, not gonna be enough till I fuck you,” Dean says, pushing Sam’s hands away and sliding the boxers off him.

They stick a little on Sam’s thighs and Dean groans, “You’re so fucking wet, Sammy. Wet everywhere for me, huh?”

Sam nods frantically.

Dean feels out control, but more than anything, above the thought of how wet and sweet Sammy is, is the thought that Dean needs to make this good for him.

He slides a single finger into Sam’s hole, and Sam groans softly, “Yes, yes,” he says.

Dean fucks his finger gently in and out of Sam for a moment, “Is this okay, Sammy?” He asks.

“Not enough,” Sam repeats, reaching down and grabbing Dean’s hand, trying to force another finger inside him.

“So needy, Sammy,” Dean says, “Your little hole not full enough?”

Sam shudders against Dean’s neck, “Please, Dean.”

“I got you, baby,” Dean says, and adds another finger.

Sam is so tight; Dean can’t even imagine how it’s going to feel around his cock.

Sam thrusts himself back jerkily as Dean fucks a third finger into him.

“Please, Dean. Oh my god,” He pants, “Need you, ready, _please,_ ”

“Don’t need to beg me, Sammy,” Dean says, “I’ll take care of you.”

“Then _fuck me_ ,” Sam says.

“Need you to get on your hands and knees for me,” Dean says, and Sam scrambles to obey.

Sam looks so pretty, hips pushed back, back a smooth curve, dusky little hole leaking slick down his thighs. Dean presses a single open-mouthed kiss to his thigh.

“Dean, come _on._ ” Sam whines.

Dean kneels behind Sam and lines his cock up to Sam’s hole. It’s so hot and warm that Dean has to fight from thrusting forward immediately.

“Tell me if I need to slow down,” he says instead, and pushes slowly forward.

“More,” Sam begs every time Dean pauses to check on him and soon Dean is fully seated in Sam’s tight, hot hole. Sam is incredible. He’s fucking perfect. Dean stops again, hands tight on Sam’s hips, trying to anchor him and stop him from thrusting wildly.

“Oh my god,” Sam whines from under him, working his hips backwards, “ _Yes.”_

Dean rolls his hips experimentally, “Good, Sammy?” He asks. He assumes the punched out noise he gets in response is a positive thing.

He picks up speed slowly, but it gets out of control pretty quickly. Sam’s sweaty and begging under him, pushing back against each thrust.

“You want my cock, Sam?” He asks as he snaps his hips forward, just pounding Sam’s ass, and Sam groans under him and takes it. Sam is pretty much unintelligible at this point, just groans and whimpers.  

Dean feels himself getting close. His cock is swelling rapidly, and under him, Sam is just fucking gone, moaning and sobbing.

Dean works his knot into Sam, rolling his hips to work it past the rim, Sam pushing back against him wildly.

Dean’s knot swells, ties with Sam, and in two more thrusts, Dean feels Sam’s hole constrict around him almost painfully.

Sam fucking _keens_ as he comes and that paired with his perfect hole milking him has Dean spilling his release.

“Holy shit,” Sam says, as soon as he catches his breath, “Holy _shit.”_

“That good, huh?” Dean says smugly, turning them so they can lie more comfortably till Dean can untie. Okay. It’s fucking spooning. Dean’s too fucked out to care.

“Really good,” Sam replies, craning his neck for a kiss. Dean pecks him gently, suddenly overwhelmed with warmth radiating out of his chest.

It’s like this is where he and Sam were supposed to end up.

“Guess you’re stuck with me now,” Dean says after a beat of silence.

“Nah, you’re stuck in me,” Sam replies, clenching down on Dean. Dean feels his entire body heat up as Sam chuckles at his own joke, and can’t help himself from sucking gently at Sam’s neck.

“Want you to mark me there,” Sam says, quietly, “And I’m going to mark you back. Want them to see we’re mates.”

The words set something off in Dean. He’s going to make sure it’s perfectly fucking clear.

\---

They can’t stay in bed forever, or even close to as long as Dean would like to.

Sam’s heat calms down after Dean marks him and fills him up again, and it’s around that time that Dean can hear the sounds of his parents waking up.

It’s an awful fucking thought, but Dean doesn’t want his them walking in on this.

The thought makes something fiercely protective lurch inside of him. He doesn’t want anyone seeing them like this, he decides.

“You’re my alpha,” Sam says cheerfully when Dean brings it up, “you should have to get up and do it.” Sam’s still naked and his ass is pressed up against Dean, neck freshly marked up. Dean’s own mark is throbbing, and yeah, Dean thinks, I am his alpha.

Dean still doesn’t want to talk to his parents about this, though. He figures he won’t really have to, if he just gets up and heads downstairs they’ll figure it out themselves.

He sighs. He doesn’t want to do it, but he wants Sam to do it even less. He wants Sam to stay right here, warm and safe. He doesn’t want Sam’s first day mated with him to be ruined by the enormous shit storm that’s going to happen downstairs.

“Get some sleep, Sammy, I got it,” Dean says, rolling himself slowly out of bed.

“Jerk,” Sam says, pulling on Dean’s arm, till Dean leans down and pecks him.

“I’m not making you go alone,” Sam says when they break apart, “I was just seeing how far this mating thing will get me.”

“Such a bitch,” Dean says, not protesting. Just knowing Sam’s going down with him has Dean feeling more settled.

Sam grabs Dean’s hand as they enter the kitchen.

Mary and John are sitting at the kitchen table, drinking their coffee.

“Um, morning,” Dean says as they look up. Dean can tell when they smell the change, their eyes widening.

John’s on his feet in an instant, but Mary grabs his arm, pulls him back down.

“Dean,” Mary says, and that’s the only word Dean needs before he starts explaining.

“I know it’s not what you expected,” he says, “But it’s done, it happened. Like it was supposed to.”

John is very quiet after that. His eyes keep flickering the mark on Sam’s neck, face tight and uncomfortable looking.

Mary has always been a harder read. After a moment, though, she nods.

“I don’t understand,” she says, “And I probably never will,”

Dean feels his heart sink and next to him, he can feel Sam tense up.

“But I’ve never had a mate,” Mary continues, “And I think it would be wrong of me—of us—to try to deny something that’s meant to be.”

Dean feels a warm rush of surprise. He squeezes Sam’s hand.

“Thank you, mom,” he says.

Next to Mary, John is still silent, still frowning. That’s okay though. The worst is behind him.

Dean has Mary, and Bobby, and a job that can support them; more than anything though, Dean has Sam.

\---

“This bed is way too small for fucking,” Dean says loudly as he drags in the university-issued comforter. Sam groans.

“Subtle, Dean,” he says, as he arranges the books on his desk for the third time, “Say it again, I don’t think the people down the hall got the idea.”

Dean grins, “Our bed,” he bellows, “Is too small for the extremely athletic, very frequent sex we are used to.”

“You’re assuming I still want to have sex with you after that,” Sam says, heading out to grab another bag of stuff.

“Don’t be like that, Sammy!” Dean cries, flopping dramatically onto the pile of clothes Sam has yet to hang.

Sam comes back in, sighs. “You’re completely useless,” he says.

“Not useless at loving you!”

Sam laughs, slides down to lie next to Dean.

“Love you too,” he says, leans over to press a kiss to Dean’s shoulder, then he hefts himself up.

“Now stop slacking, fucker,” he says, rolling up a shirt and tossing it at Dean’s face.  

Dean huffs, rolls his eyes. Wonders how he got so goddamn lucky.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So there's that!! If you feel like the alpha/omega mating/partnering dynamics are not fully fleshed out I feel like that too and I apologize haha if I forgot to tag anything or idk just let me know. Happy valentine's day!!!


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